


Nebulousness at Netherfield

by VextPanda



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Bets & Wagers, F/M, Gen, Inappropriate Erections, Netherfield Arc, Pool & Billiards, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VextPanda/pseuds/VextPanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LBD modernized P&P so brilliantly, but the literal interpretation of "Turn About the Room" was not entirely satisfying for this LBD viewer so I made up my own.  My imaginings were based on the spirit of that scene from the original source, ie, Caroline invites Lizzie to do a physical activity in front of Darcy in hopes of gaining  his attention. That lead to other musings about interactions between Darcy and Lizzie at Netherfield. Mainly, Jane and Bing trying to lessen the tension between Lizzie and Darcy, and their peacemaking efforts creating more awkwardness, confusion and misunderstanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Most Awkward Yoga Ever

“Hey, Lizzie” Caroline said in her overly bright way as she entered Netherfield’s ‘Great Room’.  “From what Jane tells me, you’ve been holding out on me."

“Oh?” said Lizzie. She lowered her book and turned to face her, frantically searching her mind for what Caroline could possibly be referring to.

“Yes,” Caroline said with a sly, knowing smile, as she stepped closer to the sofa on which Lizzie was lounging.

Caroline cocked her head to the side, sparing only a short glance at Darcy. He was ensconced with his laptop in a club chair with his feet on the ottoman, some distance away. He had unexpectedly found himself alone in the cavernous room with Lizzie in the hour or so before dinner. They had entered the room within minutes of one another, politely nodded and then proceeded to go about pursuing their own business. He would have liked to have said something to her but couldn’t think of anything relevant, much less witty, so he remained silent. Besides, she seemed to prefer the quiet, and he could certainly understand that.

Lizzie nodded her head and raised her eyebrows in encouragement for Caroline to expound upon the mysterious withholding of information grenade that she had lobbed at her. Caroline knew how to effectively use a pause to build suspense. There was no sense in making things worse by indiscriminately guessing so Lizzie waited and let the suspense build.

Caroline lifted the two yoga mats that she was holding and pointed them at Lizzie, giving her a knowing smile. “Jane says you began studying yoga in high school and even taught it while you were in college.”

Lizzie nodded in relief. That wasn’t the embarrassing revelation of a ‘secret’ that she feared. Not that there was any particular secret that she was hiding. Other than hiding her videos from Darcy she mentally amended.

Caroline followed the yoga “secret” revelation by asking Lizzie to give her some tips on the Wheel pose, and Lizzie agreed but not without adding, “Jane has exaggerated my ability. My instruction experience is limited to beginner and intermediate classes, and the Wheel is more of an advanced pose. I can do it, but I can’t promise that I can coach it very well.”

Caroline smiled brightly. “Any pointers would be appreciated so much. Thanks, Lizzie.” Caroline then made a big show of laying out her yoga mat on the floor, glancing up to ensure Darcy had an unobstructed view of her.

He had looked up when she had entered the room and addressed Lizzie. He had dutifully returned his eyes to his laptop but was fully aware of the novelty of Caroline entering a room in which he was one of the occupants and not directing her attention to him. The novelty was heightened by the fact that she had not simply addressed Lizzie, but had actually asked her advice on a matter that, from what he gathered, she had some level of expertise. He listened to the exchange closely but kept his eyes on his laptop.

“I’ll need a few minutes to warm up,” Caroline said as she began going through a series of stretches.

Lizzie observed Caroline’s warm up with growing respect. She really did have good technique and flexibility. Much better than Lizzie had expected. Caroline’s concentration, however, left something to be desired, as she frequently flicked her eyes towards Darcy who steadfastly regarded his screen.

Caroline eventually announced that she was ready to attempt the Wheel. As she began upwardly bowing her back, Lizzie could immediately see that the problem was that Caroline was allowing her feet to pivot outward rather than keeping them parallel, but she waited for Caroline to finish her efforts rather than interrupt her. At the conclusion, Lizzie suggested that she press her inner feet actively towards the floor to try to maintain a parallel position and try again. This time, Lizzie also coached her through the pose, encouraging her to turn her upper thighs slightly inward and firm her outer thighs. Speaking in a soft voice that Darcy had to strain to hear, Lizzie encouraged Caroline to narrow the hip points and lengthen her tailbone toward the backs of her knees as she lifted her pelvis towards her navel. “Keep your weight on the bases of your index fingers,” she said.

Caroline’s Wheel was definitely better on the second try, but she still wasn’t able to hold the pose for more than about 2 seconds. Caroline glanced again at Darcy and said “Maybe you could do it with me Lizzie, and Darcy can watch and see what I’m doing wrong by comparison?”

Lizzie was about to demur when Darcy interrupted. “I really don’t think I’m the right person to judge yoga positions, Caroline.”

Caroline, realizing that Darcy had finally said more than two words, persisted. “I'm positively certain that I would benefit from having a near guru like Lizzie pose along with me, don’t you agree, Darcy?”

Before Darcy could respond, Lizzie said “Really Caroline, I’m not anywhere near guru skill level.”

“Please, Lizzie?”  At Caroline’s playful pout, she almost relented. Caroline had a way of making people not want to disappoint her. Plus, if Lizzie didn’t agree to assist, then _she_ ’d be the condescending prick who couldn’t be bothered to behave humanely. Lizzie knew for a fact that she’d rather not strike yoga poses in front of Darcy, but she caught his challenging look at her, and decided that she would be damned before she would let that snobby douchebag judge her to be a pompous prick. The house was large, but it wasn’t big enough for more than one pompous prick, and the position was already filled by Sir-Douche-A-Lot.

“I’m not really dressed for it, but we can go through the pose together if you think it will help,” Lizzie shrugged, stood up from her position on the sofa and walked over to Caroline who was kneeling on the floor. “Give me a few minutes to warm up?”

“Of course!” said Caroline smiling, sliding her eyes towards Darcy. She noted that he furitively watched Lizzie assume her first pose and begin to take deep, cleansing breaths. Both Darcy and Caroline watched Lizzie visibly relax as she went thru a familiar routine of warm-up poses. It appeared both effortless and masterful to the observers. Caroline was sort of regretting giving Lizzie the opportunity to display her yoga skills and rolled her eyes at Darcy. He was so focused on Lizzie that he missed the eye roll that was done for his benefit. To regain control of the situation, she asked Darcy to come sit closer, to better provide his undoubtedly astute observations while the two women went through the Wheel. “You have such a good eye for detail,” she added as if it were an uncalculated, off-hand remark.

“Cue the eye roll,” Lizzie thought to herself.

He remained outwardly unmoved. “While I appreciate the strength and flexibility one needs to excel in yoga, I’d much rather concentrate on other aspects of watching the female form in action.” Inwardly, he congratulated himself on his decision to maintain his distance. It just felt safer. “I can do that from here.”

At that, Caroline turned to Lizzie “Really? Female form in action? Men!” she said in an admonishing tone which did nothing to disguise her pleasure at his remark.

As the women laid on their backs side by side and assumed the position to begin the upward bowing of their backs, Darcy became very conscious of his own breathing. His passing interest in the room’s unexpected activity, pleasant and enjoyable to view, had developed into an uncontrollable fixation. Try as he might, he couldn’t make himself look away. He felt it was ungentlemanly and disrespectful for him to ogle them while they were simultaneously arching their backs, and pushing their pelvises upwards, but he didn’t so much as blink. Lizzie whispering encouragement and advice to Caroline wasn’t helping matters. Sure, they were in a public room in the house, but he still felt like he was witnessing something he should turn away from but just couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of.

An unwelcome erection made him grateful for the laptop on his lap as he watched Lizzie’s fitted t-shirt rise well above the waistband of her shorts, leaving her abdomen exposed for his viewing. He simultaneously wished he was somewhere else while also wishing that he could prolong this moment in time. He was peripherally aware that Caroline hadn’t been able to hold the pose, and he knew she was now intently watching him watch Lizzie. He hated himself for being too weak to avert his gaze, and he unconsciously held his breath while he watched her breathe through the Wheel pose for another ten seconds of exquisite, erotic torture.

Lizzie lowered herself out of the Wheel gracefully, and his enthrallment mercifully ended, but Caroline’s unspoken accusations towards Darcy did not. The room was suddenly uncomfortable for all three occupants: Darcy because he would like nothing better than to hastily escape the room but couldn’t because he was sporting a massive erection even if he could think of an excuse to leave abruptly, Caroline because her suspicions of Darcy’s sexual interest in Lizzie had more or less just been confirmed, and Lizzie because she knew without a doubt that she was the object of derision for the other two occupants without understanding why.

They were all saved from themselves and any efforts at conversation by the timely entrance of Bing and Jane who were laughing and eager to tell the others of their misadventures at Bing’s tailor. The three listened to the two tell a tale of Bing mistakenly trying on someone else’s pants because of mismarked id tags. Darcy found the story somewhat horrifying but was so relieved by the distraction that he nodded appreciatively throughout the story.

As Bing and Jane recounted their story, he soothed himself by remembering that, while he had always found Lizzie enticing in a swimsuit on the several occasions that he had seen her around the pool, the wildly concupiscent urge he had just experienced must be due to the unexpectedness of seeing so much of her toned abdomen while wearing clothes that were not designed to display quite so much of a woman’s skin. Yes, that was it. Things that were forbidden or improper often provoked a stronger response. Everyone knew that.

A small voice in his head reminded him that Caroline had been wearing form fitting yoga shorts and a sports bra that allowed for even more skin showing than Lizzie’s shorts and t-shirt, but he was unable to make sense of that fact. Caroline was a beautiful woman, but somehow seeing her body on display was pleasurable but not….whatever it was that had happened when he had seen Lizzie.

That evening he diligently tried to avoid any further discomfiting thoughts brought on by his thoroughly awakened libido. He hurried through his dinner, grunted noncommittally at any comment directed towards him and retreated to his room for the rest of the evening, citing a conference call with Chengdu, China as an excuse.

*****

The next morning did not provide any relief. It was certainly nothing new or different for him to wake up with an erection, but as he rose from his bed and went about his morning routine it almost always subsided. This was a fact of life. The problem this morning was that he wasn’t sure if he had unrelenting morning wood (a locker room term that he didn't actually use in conversation, but one that he felt captured the essence of the phenomenon quite well) because of an erotic dream starring another Netherfield houseguest (if this was the case, he wished he could recall the details), or his morning wood hadn’t subsided like it should because he started thinking about her the moment that he became fully conscious and realized he had a substantial erection. Either way, the problem remained.

He determined that an early morning vigorous bike ride would help release some pent up energy but just as quickly decided that his cycling compression shorts would not disguise his situation at all should he encounter anyone on the way to his bike. Ditto for a morning swim. A shower was always a reasonable alternative.

He had intended to take a cold shower, but irrepressible mental images of him running his hands over her breasts, waist, abdomen and hips while she did the Wheel wouldn’t leave his mind so he decided to focus on these images and their natural conclusion and just get the deed over with. With the assistance of soap and warm water, he exited the shower with a sense of sexual relief tempered by self-loathing. He wasn’t ashamed of masturbating but was disappointed with himself that the urge to do so felt so ungovernable. He prided himself on his self-discipline, his ability to overcome obstacles, and his adherence to his ideals. Only irrational people pursued things that were not in their own best interests. His recent intense climax was only unwelcome because he felt like it was the result of an unhealthy, prurient interest in the wrong sort of woman. The actual orgasm felt pretty damn good so there was no point in regretting that.


	2. Charlotte Is Sensible, Caroline Is Manipulative, Lizzie Is Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter is pretty much the summary.

Lizzie wasn’t quite sure what she had done that was so offensive, but she was also certain that _something_  bad had happened during the whole Yoga Debacle which is how she thought of the series of events that occurred last night in the Great Room at Netherfield.

“I’ll be referring to it as Lizzie Bennet’s Inadvertently Offensive Yoga Exercise in the Great Room at Netherfield on my next vlog, “ she informed Charlotte during the morning’s phone chat.

“Kind of a mouthful. Besides, maybe you’re being too sensitive,” Charlotte said doubtfully. “I, mean, what you’re describing doesn’t sound terribly offensive. Except maybe to Caroline because you were able to hold the pose correctly when she wasn’t.” After a pause, she added “if that’s the case then I’m really proud of you, and Caroline will just have to get over it.”

They both laughed. Lizzie felt reassured. Like Charlotte said, whatever weirdness was going on during the Yoga Debacle wasn’t because she had done anything wrong. Lizzie knew Darcy didn’t like anything about her anyway so his censure was nothing new or different to get upset about, and Caroline was just being Caroline. After listening to her friend vent, Charlotte pointed out that Caroline’s chilliness at dinner last night was just the fallout from her failed attempt to get the kind of attention that she wanted from Darcy. Her knickers were twisted because she didn’t get something she felt she was entitled to. She had initially succeeded in getting Darcy’s attention with the yoga gambit, but it wasn’t as gratifying as she had hoped so she had withdrawn to her ice princess castle. Charlotte’s synopsis made sense to Lizzie. Maybe Caroline was just retreating to nurse her wounds. Even so, it _had_ felt like Caroline’s irritation was personally directed at her.

Lizzie's world was always a little more in balance after a talk with Charlotte, and she let out a relieved sigh. “You really are the best, Charlotte. Thanks.”

With a lighter heart and higher spirits, she confessed to Charlotte that she had ruminated about how pointless it seemed to try to fit in at Netherfield. She imagined herself as the houseguest equivalent of Sisyphus and his never ending struggle to push a boulder uphill, but instead of pushing a boulder, she was forever trying to make small talk with people who really didn’t want her there as she was doomed to what felt like a lifetime in the position of barely tolerated houseguest. “Sisyphus’ deal was a cakewalk compared to living at Netherfield,” she concluded wryly.

“I’m glad to see that your self-worth hasn’t suffered so much that you don’t think that it’s a just a tad grandiose to compare yourself to a dude whose life story is the definition of futile efforts.”

Lizzie laughed. At herself and at her very rational friend reminding her that she was taking herself too seriously. Good, sensible Charlotte was right once again. Dwelling on perpetually feeling out of place and disapproved of was sapping too much of her energy. Last evening really hadn’t been that big a deal. At least she had felt graceful during that short interlude of her stay at Netherfield. She didn’t mention that to Charlotte though.

Charlotte continued “Not to minimize your feelings of futility or anything, but really Lizzie. BFD if you’re not completely comfortable at Netherfield? It’s a place to stay that has all the creature comforts, and Jane is there to hold your hand if you need it.”

Lizzie laughed and said “Not really. She’s too busy holding Bing’s.” She realized that might sound bitter or annoyed, and so she assured Charlotte that she was anything but. She was honestly delighted that Jane and Bing were able to spend so much time together. Bing and Jane were 24-7 dopey smiles and googly eyes, which was sometimes hard to watch, but she was genuinely thrilled for her sister.

Charlotte tactfully refrained from saying that she was pretty sure that Darcy would hold Lizzie’s hand if she wanted him to, but that would just piss her off. Her mind was well and truly made up about that guy so she offered to go with her on a frogurt run instead. “Call me this evening if it gets too frosty or awkward at Netherfield?” Charlotte asked.

“Okay, but really, I’m fine.” And then melodramatically “I’ll put on my big girl pants and ignore the soul crushing feelings of futility interspersed liberally with feelings of gross inadequacy." She raised her hand in a stop gesture that Charlotte couldn’t see through the phone. “And before I’m reprimanded again for being overly dramatic, I’ll add that maybe my feelings of futility and inadequacy are not of mythic proportions, but futility and inadequacy still feel bad.”

“Okay. I’m going to let that pass,” Charlotte was amused. “Now quit your dithering and vlog about the yoga incident and send me some footage,” said Charlotte jokingly as she hung up thinking that Lizzie’s time at Netherfield was an opportunity for Lizzie to realize that there were worse things in life than living at home.

And Lizzie could use a slightly humbling experience now and again. Things usually came ridiculously easy to her, and she didn’t always quite understand that other people struggled mightily with so many of the things that came naturally to Lizzie. Charlotte dearly loved her friend and would never wish her any real harm, but the girl could be a little dense sometimes.

*****

Lizzie ended the phone call feeling much better about herself overall, but she had not told Charlotte all of the little things that were happening on a daily basis that made her feel uncouth or inadequate in some way. She was unfamiliar with the wines that were paired with their sometimes unfamiliar but unfailingly delicious meals. She was clumsy in the Netherfield kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door felt like she was breaking into a vault. The microwave was so fucking powerful that she exploded a bowl of oatmeal in it two mornings in a row. Everyone else remembered that the Lee’s asked their guests to remove their shoes upon entering the house. The one time that she forgot, Darcy had caught her bending over to remove her shoes in the hallway past the foyer. He silently watched her try to hop on one foot to remove them. He had watched her so intently, with a look of such condemnation, that she felt like she was 7 years old again and had ruined her mother’s cherished faux zebra skin rug by tracking tar onto it. .

*****

“So last night I was given yet more grist for my decidedly off balance mill. You’ll just have to take my word for it that something as graceful and serene as yoga can be made awkward and unpleasant by the mere presence of none other than Mr. William Darcy.” And with that, Caroline made her agreed upon entrance into the frame of Lizzie’s vlog.

“Welcome, Caroline.” Lizzie stated while motioning for her to take a seat next to here in front of the camera. ”Caroline has volunteered to be here today so that my lovely viewers _don’t_ have to take my word for it.” Lizzie paused for dramatic effect and then continued with “she will attest that Darcy can make anything, no matter how benign or pleasant, toxically awkward.”

Caroline waved to the camera and gave her best million dollar smile.

“My name is Lizzie Bennet and this is an account of the most awkward yoga ever.”

*****

Caroline had actively sought out Lizzie after a late breakfast and encouraged her to vlog about the Yoga Debacle. She hadn’t called it that though. She had just suggested to Lizzie that the weird episode of Darcy watching them do a difficult yoga pose would make a good vlog subject.

“If you need help with costume theater, I’m available” Caroline had added helpfully.

The vlog episode proceeded to detail the insufferable response Darcy had to their diligent efforts to improve Caroline’s Wheel pose. Caroline found it ridiculously easy to provoke Lizzie into a disparaging portrayal of Darcy as an aloof dick. The footage was sent to Charlotte, and Lizzie considered the matter closed.

Until Charlotte called her to say that her portrayal came off as being pretty harsh.

“Well, if I was harsh, it was because I was striving for accuracy,” Lizzie countered.

“Okay.”

A long minute passed and finally Lizzie spoke, defending her portrayal. “The guy just stared at us. Well, just at me. Like really… stared. And didn’t’ say anything. Just watched me like a bug under a microscope.”

“If he didn’t say anything, how do you know that he disliked what he was seeing?” Charlotte asked logically.

“Because you know as well as I do that there are several studies supporting the idea that 55% of communication is body language, 38% is the tone of voice, and 7% is the actual words spoken.”

“Yeaahh. But didn’t you just say that he didn’t say anything?”

“Well,” Lizzie paused for a second to collect her thoughts. ”You know Mehrabian? One of the author’s of the original 60-40 formula which was the predecessor to the 55-38-7 formula?”

Lizzie was gathering steam now and answered her own question. “Mehrabian is one of the guys who came up with the simple 60/40 formula which states that a person’s real attitude is projected through 60% facial and 40% vocal. Annnyway, he is quoted as saying ‘When there are inconsistencies between attitudes communicated verbally and posturally, the postural component should dominate in determining the total attitude that is inferred.’ I’m just practicing what my mass comm education has preached to me.”

Charlotte sighed. “Right or wrong, your ability to quote studies and their authors makes you very difficult to argue with,” said Charlotte begrudgingly.

“That’s what Darcy said. Or more accurately, 'I find your ability to quote many books and people of note very challenging, Lizzie',” Lizzie said in her Darcy voice.

“You might be right about him,” Charlotte conceded, “but I still think there’s a strong possibility that, when it comes to evaluating his communications with you, you’re not applying the 3 C’s —context, cluster and congruity.”

Lizzie’s eyes danced with excitement. She loved a good argument, and Charlotte was more than capable of giving her one. Although, as a rule, Charlotte didn’t actively seek out lively debates the way Lizzie did. Charlotte found debating with Lizzie stimulating, but it could also be exhausting rather than energizing. Lizzie had always had a need to exercise her debate and witty banter muscles regularly. She tended to become more energized when the debate became more heated. Charlotte preferred not to engage in the exchange of ideas when it bordered on conflict, which with Lizzie, it easily could.

“So exactly which ‘C’ am I not applying correctly to my interpretation of Mr. Darcy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe all three, but my guess is context and probably congruity too. Just don’t take such a relentless hardline when interpreting his speech and body language.”

At Lizzie’s silence, Charlotte added more gently “you get something into that head of yours and then interpret all the data that comes your way so that it fits your pre-determined hypothesis.”

Lizzie was uncharacteristically quiet.

“A good scientist is without bias or prejudice. Be open to changing your mind. That’s all I’m saying,” coaxed Charlotte.

“I’ll think about it.”  And then in a teasing voice added “You make a compelling argument, Miss Lu. I’m a sucker for a line of reasoning that is based on a good science of communications study. But I guess you know that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that I'm not a student of yoga or mass comm. For readers who are, I'm sure that's obvious. My apologies.


	3. Jane and Bing, Peacemakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Bing seek to facilitate harmony among the Netherfield houseguests.

“So what happened to put you, Caroline and Lizzie in such bad moods last night?” Bing asked Darcy as they waited their turn on the fourth hole at the nearby country club golf course. They were playing there as guests of Bing’s friend, Stuart.

Darcy, who had just started to relax and enjoy a friendly round of golf with Bing, was startled by the question. He hadn’t realized that Bing could see that he was indeed in a bad mood last night at dinner. He was equally surprised to learn that Caroline and Lizzie were in bad moods at dinner also.

“I just had a lot on my mind,” he ventured. “The Chengdu, China conference call,” as if that explained why he had been especially withdrawn and particularly non-conversant during dinner.

“Really?” Bing said tentatively. “Jane and I thought maybe something had happened while we were out on our errand?”

“No.” Bing raised his eyebrows, so Darcy added “Nothing happened.”

“Okay. If you say so. I know that you and Lizzie don’t really get along well, but last night seemed even more tense than usual.”

Darcy looked up from the small area of the tee box turf which he had been studying intently, moving his club over its surface with very tight, small motions. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He motioned towards the tee, “The green’s clear now. Your turn, Bing.”

Darcy absently watched as Bing teed up, thinking about Bing’s last comment. He and Lizzie don’t get along? Hmm. It was his turn though, so he returned his concentration to his golf game, and was pleased with his long, straight drive. Easy chip shot, and he would be on the green. He might even birdie the hole.

They played another ten holes or so before Darcy finally asked Bing “what makes you think that Lizzie and I don’t get along well?”

Bing and Darcy were walking the course rather than using a cart so Bing had a chance to formulate a response before they made it to the next hole. “No particular reason. Just a general observation,” he said diplomatically. Inwardly, Bing wondered how Darcy could possibly think that they _did_ get along well.

He and Jane had discussed it at length and on more than one occasion. They were both careful to not criticize the other’s friend/sister, but they definitely agreed that there was a lot of tension there. Which they also agreed was strange. On the surface, Darcy and Lizzie had so much in common—they were both voracious readers, intellectually curious, fitness minded, good hearted people—but they didn’t seem to connect with one another at all. Jane and Bing had considered trying to facilitate a match between them but quickly discarded the idea because it was obviously doomed. Evidently, Lizzie and Darcy didn’t feel any chemical attraction, and the would-be matchmakers couldn’t fix that. Either a couple had chemistry or they didn’t. No sense in shipping something that was never going to happen.

Some time after last night’s unsociable dinner, Jane had suggested to Bing that although Lizzie and Darcy might not be ‘most likely to succeed’ as a romantic match, they could at least be more civil to one another. For the sake of everyone’s comfort while they all resided under the same roof, she and Bing needed to make this happen. They had brainstormed different ideas regarding the best way to lessen the tension. One idea after another was nixed as being more likely to blow up in their faces than resolve any differences. Just because it _seemed_ like those two should appreciate each other’s strengths and attributes, didn’t make it any likelier.

Having them prepare a complex meal together was their best bad idea, but Bing couldn’t see Darcy tolerating Lizzie’s fast and loose with the utensils and ingredients approach to cooking that he had twice witnessed as she prepared her morning omelet. Jane chuckled as she tried to picture Lizzie tolerating Darcy’s undoubtedly scrupulous cooking process. Just a few days ago, Lizzie had told Jane that she had to seriously restrain herself from beating him senseless with a spatula when she was forced to watch his methodical preparation of a fajita.

In her quest for peace and harmony at Netherfield, Jane had applied herself to sussing out exactly what it was about Darcy that Lizzie found so objectionable. He wasn’t the liveliest or friendliest guy on the planet, but Lizzie could respect differences in people’s temperaments and characters. Jane reasoned that if she could identify the trigger for Lizzie’s negative reactions to Darcy, maybe she could somehow circumvent the trigger and affect a more peaceful coexistence. But when she thought about how passionately those two argued about every little thing, the only distinguishable pattern was that Darcy said something, Lizzie didn’t like it so she said something argumentative back, and it went downhill from there. Rinse and repeat.

As she pondered how this pernicious pattern began, Jane remembered that Darcy had insulted Lizzie at their first meeting. Lizzie’s dislike had begun at the wedding when Jane had been busy getting to know Bing. Of course! It was all on the Most Awkward Dance Ever vlog.

Jane hadn’t witnessed the actual dis, but she had seen the video so she knew that Lizzie had been really hurt by Darcy’s callous statement and aloof behavior. In a rush of insight, she knew that Lizzie was still harboring resentment over his declaration that he wouldn’t waste any more time dancing with her. She couldn’t remember exactly what he had said about Lizzie’s appearance, but it hadn’t been flattering. Which was really weird now that she thought about it because Jane was almost certain that Darcy admired her sister. And more than just a little bit. He was awkward as hell, but he seemed to try to, for want of a better word, _flirt_ with Lizzie. Lizzie didn’t see it as flirting though. She perceived it as willfully antagonizing her. Lizzie was stubborn, and that was a fact. Now how to go about getting her to forgive Darcy’s snub?

Jane was an expert on Lizzie’s strengths as well as her weaknesses. Harboring a grudge for a short time was definitely a tendency of Lizzie’s, but this level of grudge holding was not part of Lizzie’s usual character. Lizzie was logical and grudges defied logic. They were bad for your health and morally unsound so Lizzie was usually pretty good about letting stuff go and moving on. It was inexplicable. Lizzie was passionate about things though so maybe she was just throwing herself into being the best grudge holder that she could possibly be.

Jane’s last thought before falling asleep last night was that Lizzie might be a little more charitable towards Darcy if she bested him at something that he considered himself good at. Chess? No, Jane doubted Lizzie could beat him. Lizzie was good at tennis, but Darcy was likely better. It needed to be something that required skill and didn’t rely on luck, size or strength too much…

*****

When she awoke the next morning, a game of eight-ball struck her as a reasonable answer. Lizzie and Jane had both played pool with the Longoria boys down the street. During one summer, they spent so much time in the Longoria’s converted garage that their father began to expect an eight-ball nightly update at dinner. Lizzie didn’t like to lose so while Jane enjoyed the camaraderie and easy banter among long time neighborhood friends, Lizzie was busy working to improve her game. Lizzie enjoyed the smack talk and teasing of neighbor kids playing pool, but, unlike Jane, she never forgot that there was a game on. By the time the Longoria’s moved, Lizzie was a little bit of a shark in Jane’s opinion. This was before high school though, and she hadn’t practiced much since then. Still, the idea had potential.

Bing had recently told her a very funny, very self-deprecating story about losing his Pokemon cards in a pool game bet when he was about 13. At the time, he had tried to save face by claiming that he was too old for Pokemon so he didn’t really care about losing his cards, but he was secretly devastated by the loss. Somehow, it had come out that he still sort of sucked at pool. Perfect, Jane thought to herself. He could be Darcy’s partner in order to help insure a Lizzie win.

That morning, Jane had approached Bing with the eight-ball idea before he and Darcy left for their scheduled tee time. Jane didn’t explain to Bing that Lizzie needed a vengeance win to get past Darcy’s insult. Instead, she said that she and Lizzie could team up against Bing and Darcy in a game of low stakes betting.

“In our early teens, Lizzie and I used to have so much fun, relaxing around the pool table, laughing and joking, betting on wacky things. Maybe it’ll diffuse some of the tension,” Jane explained.

Jane felt that if they made the bet something that Darcy wouldn’t mind losing to Lizzie, say a back rub or something like that, the plan would be foolproof. Lizzie gets a victory, and Darcy pays up with a currency he doesn’t mind losing. Presto! Tense situation resolved. Or at least eased.

Bing needed clarification on the back rub part of this scheme. Jane explained that if he and Darcy lost, then they would owe she and Lizzie a 30 minute back rub.

“From each of us or one back rub to a customer?” asked Bing.

“You’re not focusing on the right part of this plan, Bing. I guess one to a customer,” said Jane, shaking her head with a ‘whatever’ expression. "It's better than loser eats a spoonful of cinnamon. Trust me. I learned that the hard way."

“Just so I’m clear: you would give me a back rub, and Lizzie would give Darcy a back rub if your team loses.”

Jane nodded.

Bing liked this plan. As long as Jane was the giver or receiver of his back rub, then he didn’t care two straws who won and who lost. He thought Darcy would be okay with the stakes too. Darcy wasn’t the kind of guy to fall for every pretty girl who crossed his path, but Bing had noticed that Darcy was subtly different around Lizzie. Darcy was an intensely private man so who would know for sure? Whether he liked her liked her wasn’t clear, but Darcy was definitely intrigued by her and would probably be okay with giving or receiving a back rub.

It was decided that Darcy and Lizzie would both be more apt to accept a low stakes game of eight-ball if they thought they were being challenged by the other. Conversely, they would both be more likely to decline to play if they thought they were being manipulated by Jane and Bing in the name of Netherfield harmony.

Bing and Jane privately agreed that they would never consider arranging a game if they didn’t think that all four of them would have a great time hanging out together. There really wasn’t a downside. Either a friendly game of pool would help dispel some of the tension or it wouldn’t, right? So Bing agreed to approach Darcy with the girls’ eight-ball challenge while Jane approached Lizzie with the boys’ eight-ball challenge.

There was an exchange of texts before the golf game was over. On the 16th hole Bing received a text from Jane: “Fire shot out of Lizzie’s eyes and she gladly accepted the Bing and Darcy initiated challenge. 11 p.m. Billiards Room”

A few minutes later, Bing texted her back with “Darcy is completely confused by why you and Lizzie would be willing to give me and him back rubs but he said okay”

Further texts from Bing to Jane: “He is sure we’ll win” and “Maybe we should re-think this plan?”

Text from Jane to Bing: “Does he know that you lost your Pokemon collection? ;)”

Text from Bing to Jane: “Ha ha.”

Texts from Jane to Bing: “Lizzie is in the billiards room now” “Brace yourselves.”

Text from Bing to Jane: “With pleasure.” “Gotta go. Darcy’s frowning at my delay of game.”

*****

Lizzie thought it was strange that Bing and Darcy had cooked up a pool challenge that involved her and Jane while they were purportedly playing golf. The stakes of the game were even stranger. That was definitely a Bing and Jane type bet. Winner and loser definitions were seriously messed up in that scenario. She had already decided that when she won, she would graciously decline her back rub from Darcy. And there was little doubt in her mind that she and Jane would win. She had played a little in college and was pleased that she could usually compete with guys who thought pretty highly of their game.

“Thank you Longoria family for providing me with the green felt on which to hone the billiard skills that will be used to slay my enemy,” she said out loud and promptly felt like an idiot for saying something so ridiculous.

She made her way to the billiards room, racked the balls, selected a cue, chalked it, and inhaled deeply before breaking them. The sight and sound of two balls falling into pockets was more deeply satisfying than she cared to admit. Yes, she was looking forward to tonight.

*****

On the drive from the country club back to Netherfield, Darcy puzzled over why on earth Lizzie and Jane would issue such a challenge. Did they really think that they could beat Bing and him? Which one of them thought up such ridiculous stakes? Was Lizzie really willing to give him a 30 minute back rub when she lost? If so, didn’t this prove wrong Bing’s earlier assertion that he and Lizzie did not get along?

“You know my father enjoyed a good game of snooker,” Darcy said conversationally and somewhat to his own surprise.

“Did you play with him very much?” Bing asked.

“No. Or at least, not as much as I would have liked. I remember watching him play with friends or by himself late at night, but I was still a little young to give him a decent game. My mother did though. Give him a decent game, I mean,” he said as much to himself as to Bing.

“My family didn’t have a pool table, and no one that I hung around with ever played so I didn’t get much experience playing as a kid,” said Bing. “I’ll apologize up front if I lose this for us.”

Darcy raised one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth turned up as he said, “I’m not worried.”


	4. Pre-Game Psych Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamesmanship  
> gāmzmənˌSHip  
> noun
> 
> the art of winning games by using various ploys and tactics to gain a psychological advantage.

Darcy and Bing planned to cool off in the pool after walking 18 holes on the golf course. Caroline and Jane planned to join them after they made a quick snack to bring poolside.

Lizzie heard them come in and gather in the kitchen. She considered going downstairs to greet them, but she suddenly felt awkward about going out of her way to see Darcy. Bing was with him, she reminded herself, but Darcy was the target of the smack talk that she was ready to start throwing down.

She had just resolved to go downstairs and indulge her newfound eagerness to see Darcy when she heard Caroline say “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

When no one answered, she continued, ”Are we going out? Staying in? Board games? Movie? Late night swim? Decadent dessert making contest?”

More silence. Lizzie could just imagine the deer in the headlights expression on the other three’s faces. Caroline wasn’t included in their eight-ball game, and it wasn’t intended to exclude her, but it was unavoidable that it would. Plus, all four of them knew that their little wager would not sit well with her, and nobody wanted to hear her thoughts on it.

As Lizzie listened closely from her position on the staircase, she heard Darcy say “I have no fixed plans. I had thought that I might get some reading done later tonight, but I’m at your disposal until then.”

She couldn’t imagine what she had expected him to say, but his tacit denial by omission irked her. After her initial annoyance, she realized there wasn’t really much that could be said that wouldn’t be hurtful to Caroline. It’s not as if he could announce that later tonight in the billiard’s room, there was a back rub riding on the outcome of a solids and stripes eight-ball game in which Bing and Darcy faced off against the Bennet sisters, and she was not invited to attend.

*****

Caroline was very pleased to have Darcy “at her disposal”. During the late afternoon, she found numerous reasons to hang on to the raft chair that he was floating on while thumbing through some sort of investment journal. When they were not in the pool, he seemed to make a point of sitting near her. As a woman currently between boyfriends, she appreciated the attention from a handsome man. The Darcys and Lees had been friends for years. She was entitled to an intimacy with him more than a nobody from Nowhere, California. Even if it would probably never be more than a friendship, she liked keeping her options open.

In the early evening, dinner was being prepared by the Netherfield chef while the house occupants lounged around the pool. It was the most tranquil day yet. Jane and Bing whispered with their heads close together in the pool while hanging off opposite sides of a foam raft. They credited the planned billiards game with diverting Lizzie and Darcy’s focus away from their usual focus on antagonizing each other. They noted that Lizzie and Darcy were making an extra effort to appear relaxed and confident before the big game, and this translated into somewhat of a truce. Neither wanted to appear anxious or excited about the impending game. Bad gamesmanship was not part of a serious competitor’s mental preparation method. Bing and Jane found this amusing if not hilarious.

Caroline sensed the shift in attitude between Lizzie and Darcy. They were both being friendlier and less argumentative with each other, but there was something else afoot. A sense of anticipation hung in the air. She couldn’t figure out what it was, but she had the upper hand now so she really didn't care. It _was_ odd though. She noticed that Bing and Jane seemed especially pleased with each other, but, she sighed to herself, that didn't signify anything in particular. They were always pleased with each other.

Dinner that evening was marked by the easiness of the conversation among friends. Jane and Bing were elated with their success so far.

Caroline was elated for another reason. Darcy had been open to her overtures all afternoon. Instead of brief replies, he smiled and made a polite comment when she addressed him. Instead of pulling away his shoulder while they drifted in the pool, he allowed her to hang on to it. She had removed some sort of tree fluff from his hair while they were in the pool, and he hadn’t winced or pulled back. Instead, he smiled at her, thanked her and asked if she had gotten it all while leaning his head towards her so that she could inspect his hair.

Reading in the shade poolside, Lizzie didn’t know what to make of this. Darcy had always kept an amicable but careful distance from Caroline. She was baffled by the sudden increased intimacy with Caroline. She didn’t know why the cyborg was acting almost touchy feely towards Caroline and more congenial towards the group in general, but she could do the same. If this was some sort of pre-game psych out, then she would not let his unusual behavior throw her off her game.

Exuding good will after the reclamation of her rightful property on the Darcy front, Caroline was at her most gracious. She was the perfect hostess, making everyone comfortable, topping off drinks and building consensus about what to do that evening. Since the chi was flowing and everyone had noticed it, they agreed that staying in and enjoying each other’s company was preferable to trying to get a table at Carter’s or a live music venue somewhere.

Caroline suggested a game night might be in order and was pleased to see that everyone smiled and nodded at her suggestion.

“How about Outburst?” she asked. Again, everyone agreed.

This was nothing extraordinary for Bing and Jane, but Darcy or Lizzie could usually be counted on to list the pros and cons of any suggested movie, restaurant or game. They rarely agreed to play something without editorial comment.

It was even more out of character for them to play so uninhibitedly. It didn’t matter if they were on the same team or opposing team, they both guessed enthusiastically and rapidly, racing against the timer. Winning and losing were equally met with good humor. Darcy didn’t have as much gesturing and none of the squealing, but otherwise, his energy level approximated Lizzie’s.

Darcy had never been part of the circle that was showered with Lizzie’s smiling, teasing and infectious joy. He had seen it from afar when she was interacting with other people, but this was an actual first-hand experience. And it was nothing short of breathtaking. He felt like he had stepped out of the shadows into the sun. He was sure that his skin was actually warmer.

Darcy’s understanding of the eight-ball challenge was that it was to be the four of them only. That had not been said explicitly, but he felt certain that Caroline’s presence would detract from an experience that he was very much looking forward to. When it became apparent that the plan had assumed Caroline’s absence, but there was no actual provision in the plan to assure her absence, he felt that his hostess was being slighted. Even if she didn’t know she was not included, it was bad manners to exclude one member of such a small party. On the other hand, he desperately wished that she would be conveniently absent. This would not just magically happen. He abhorred disguise and deceit, but he believed in strategy.

His strategy had been to mollify Caroline throughout the day. He hoped that if he indulged her during the day, she would be satisfied with her day and less likely to prolong it. He would excuse himself to his quarters around 10 p.m. Hopefully, everyone would follow his lead. The game was planned for 11 p.m. with the unspoken expectation that they would be done by midnight.

An unexpected bonus of his strategy was that his unusually cordial behavior towards Caroline had confused Lizzie and made her suspicious of him. He was smugly satisfied that he had unintentionally psyched out his opponent hours before the game even started. His satisfaction lessened when Lizzie started one upping his cordiality by being cordial to Caroline _and_ him. He was not to be outdone. To hell with worrying about giving her false hope, he had a pool game to win. If she thought that she could shake his concentration by… by…being beautiful and  _flirting_ with him _and_ befriending Caroline, she was mistaken. He would enjoy her attentions and would most definitely not be flustered.

He had revised his pre-game strategy accordingly. He aimed to project confidence, be the perfect houseguest and allow her to believe that their pool game was of little importance to him. He would act like he was living in the moment rather than anticipating THE event.

Nothing could be further from the truth. During the afternoon, he had found himself thinking about different strategies if the balls were configured in this way or that. With her smiling at him during dinner and Outburst, he quit pondering different ball configuration possibilities that might await him and simply relished the thought that very soon he would be standing in close proximity to her within the confines of the rather small billiards room. He envisioned her brushing past him to take her shot and smiled to himself. He reminded himself that Jane and Bing would be there, but he didn’t dwell on that inconvenient detail.

Under normal circumstances, being the perfect houseguest would never have been part of a pre-game strategy. He had never really thought about the characteristics of the perfect houseguest beyond good table manners and picking up after himself. The perfect houseguest definition probably included  displaying a degree of jovial fellowship. With a little wine to assist him, he could manage that.  He had had an excellent round of golf that morning, his good fortune had continued when he had been presented a rather delectable eight-ball challenge, and his efforts to mollify Caroline had been met with inarguable success. As best as he could tell, he was “in the zone”.  He wasn’t surprised that Lizzie was responding so positively to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that there's at least one reader out there who is curious about the outcome of the game.


	5. The 8-Ball Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing and Darcy face off against the Bennet sisters in a game of 8-ball.

Darcy’s strategy worked. He arrived in the billiards room at 11 pm to find Bing and Jane already there. He had a few minutes of concern when Lizzie didn’t immediately show up. When she did arrive, she was all smiles and amiableness. He allowed himself to wonder if she knew she was going to lose and didn’t care because she wanted to give him a back rub. If that were the case, then she was as infatuated with him as he was with her.

*****

Lizzie had decided to play it cool. He was sure to underestimate her so she would act like this was just fun and games. No big deal.

His affability during dinner and Outburst had been a little surprising, but she was nothing if not adaptable. She could beat him at his own mind games as well as the pool game. If he wanted to play board games cheerfully and agreeably, then by God, she would be the cheerful-est, agreeable-est player possible. It was surprisingly easy. And fun. It really had been the most fun that she had had since staying at Netherfield. It didn’t hurt that Darcy’s attentions to Caroline earlier in the day had made Lizzie less of a target for Caroline’s innuendos.

Lizzie enjoyed hanging out with friends and playing games, but she didn’t lose focus on her goal. Beating William Darcy at pool and then flippantly telling him that he needn’t fulfill the wager was the goal. This day had a higher purpose. And everything that lead up to 11 pm was just filler.

*****

“So shall we lag for the break?” Lizzie asked cheerfully.

Bing looked expectantly at Darcy who nodded his agreement.

A brief conversation between Lizzie and Jane ended with the decision that Lizzie would be lagging for the break for their team.

Bing said to Darcy “I haven’t a clue what ‘lagging for the break” is so you’re our team’s guy by default. Sorry, man.”

As she leaned over the table to shoot her ball towards the footrail, Darcy did the same. Both balls bounced off the foot cushion and came to a stop a hair’s breadth from the headrail.

“Wow. That’s really close,” said Jane.

Darcy had squatted down to view the two balls from the side to better judge which ball was closest to the headrail.

Bing laughingly said, “You guys are SERIOUS.”

Both Lizzie and Darcy looked at him with same expression on their faces. The expression was “of course, I’m serious.”

Lizzie realized how cut throat she appeared and laughed lightly, dispelling the worst of the tense moment.

Bing tried to further diffuse the tension with “Maybe you should just break for the lag again?”

Darcy answered “No. I think Lizzie’s ball is slightly closer. And it’s ‘lag for the break’.”

Lizzie had a satisfactory, if not stellar break, sinking a solid. She called her next shot “6 ball side pocket” and sunk it. Good, she thought. She had always liked the solid balls better than the striped. She was able to pocket another ball before losing her turn.

As Bing chalked his cue stick before taking his shot, Darcy asked, “Are we playing best 2 out of 3?”

Lizzie and Jane looked at each other and had the non-verbal communication that takes place between two people who know each other extremely well. They hadn’t discussed that, but it was reasonable so Jane shrugged as Lizzie said “Sure.”

Bing promptly pocketed the 8 ball in the corner pocket, and the Bennet sisters were up 1-0.

Jane felt terrible for Bing. She regretted ever proposing the scheme and silently vowed to crush her peacemaking urges if it meant possibly hurting someone else.

Bing was unscathed, however. He had the ability to shrug off setbacks. It was one of the things Jane admired most about him. He wasn’t one to dwell on the negative.

They agreed that losers break so Darcy lined up his shot and sunk a striped and a solid on his break. The table was still technically “open”, and he evaluated the lie of the remaining balls carefully. He called the 2 ball in the corner pocket, and pocketed it.

Lizzie hoped that that wasn’t a bad omen. A solid ball had had the better lie so she understood why he took it, but resented it all the same. WFD (the initials that were monogrammed on his shirt cuffs and engraved on his briefcase) would probably choose solid even if it wasn’t the best lie if he knew that she favored them. He really was that aggravating. He pocketed one more ball before missing, and Lizzie was up.

She pocketed the 15 and then the 11 in rapid succession. She chalked her cue again and took a deep breath. She had gotten into a groove. She felt good. Then she missed a fairly easy shot. Dammit.

Bing’s turn was a miss, but his shot left the balls more disadvantageously arranged for Jane. Jane was sure that Bing didn’t realize it or he probably would have apologized. He was such a sweetheart. No killer instinct at all.

Jane's shot was impossible so she abandoned trying to pocket one and intentionally left Darcy in a bind. Lizzie smiled, thinking that Jane was a much fiercer player than anyone would ever suspect. Everyone should have a Jane on her team to get through this life.

Darcy salvaged the tough lie with a bank shot. He then made back to back pockets. Lizzie felt a mild panic that he was going to run the table when he pocketed yet another ball. There was only one solid left. Darcy’s shot was too gentle, and the ball settled in the jaws of the pocket without falling in.

Lizzie’s turn. She made no more pretense that she was taking the game lightly. She was a stone cold pool hustler with laser focus. Three fewer balls were on the table when she finally missed a shot and lost her turn.

Bing pocketed the remaining solid ball that Darcy had left in the jaws of the corner pocket. Only the 8 ball was left for their team. Bing missed.

Jane’s turn. Only one striped ball remained. “God! The pressure!” 

Bing laughed and said “Glad I’m not the only one feeling it.” Lizzie and Darcy gave half-smiles.

Jane pocketed the last striped ball. She called the pocket for the 8 ball but missed.

Darcy was left with an easy shot. He studied the ball and the shot for what Lizzie felt was an inordinate amount of time.

“Just take the fucking shot already,” she said under her breath.

He looked up sharply, and she reddened. She didn’t think she had said it loud enough for him to hear her.

“I beg your pardon?” Darcy, who had heard her voice but couldn't distinguish her words, said.

“Oh, nothing,” she mumbled. She flushed somewhere close to scarlet.

He sunk the 8-ball and tied the games at one apiece.

“Loser breaks,” Darcy said matter-of-factly as he laid the rack on the table. Lizzie could have sworn that there was a nasty gleam in his eye as he said it.

Jane and Bing whispered a quick conversation as Darcy and Lizzie retrieved balls from the pockets so that they could be racked. Bing spoke quickly “Hey, maybe we should call it quits for the evening? Leave with a tie score? 1-1 and done?”

Jane nodded vigorously in agreement. Chiming in with “it’s getting late.”

Darcy looked directly at Lizzie and asked, “Do you want to call it a tie and abandon the wager?”

Lizzie shrugged “I’ll do whatever. Do you?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I don’t like to quit on anything as a general rule.”

“Are you suggesting that I do?”

“No.” he said surprised. “That’s not what I meant at all. I simply meant that my inclination would be to play the third and final game because that’s what we agreed to do. If the group” at this, he spared a glance for Jane and Bing who watched the exchange with raised eyebrows and bated breaths, “wants to quit, then of course, I’ll quit.”

There was a long awkward pause during which Jane tried to signal to Lizzie to back down by opening her eyes wider and cutting them to the side, but Lizzie looked away from Jane and back to Darcy.

“I want to play the last game. We said 2 out of 3. I want to play,” Lizzie said, her voice clear and low.

Trying to smooth things over and lighten the mood, Bing said “I feel like the high plains drifter just came to town.” He did a good impression of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” theme music with its two-note melody that sounded like the howl of a coyote.

Lizzie dimpled with an appreciative smile.

Darcy’s focus on Lizzie was somewhat broken by Bing’s mixing of two different Clint Eastwood movies, but he didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, he nodded to Lizzie, finished racking the balls and said “Loser breaks”.

This game was much like the previous game with Lizzie and Darcy pocketing the majority of the balls for their respective teams.

At one point, Darcy advised Bing to "Shoot this with pocket speed only, so you don't send the cue ball too far up-table."

To which Bing replied “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

This broke some of the tension in the room as they all cracked up (or at least Jane did, Lizzie and Darcy just chuckled slightly) over Bing’s honest admission at Darcy’s unhelpful advice.

The lighter atmosphere lasted for a few more plays, but the tension in the room rebounded to an all time high when Darcy was left with only the 8 ball between him and a victory. In a soft voice, he called the pocket for his 8-ball shot, and there was no mistaking the dismay on Lizzie’s face as she sized up the table. It was a relatively easy shot, and she was not surprised when he made it.

When Darcy looked up expectantly at Lizzie after his last shot, she dropped her gaze to the floor, trying to gather her thoughts. She had convinced herself that she and Jane would win. Now she was faced with having to congratulate him…um…them on their win.

Bing had turned to Jane and said with a smile “I’ll let you know when and where I want my back rub, but right now? I’m ready to hit the sack. Early golf games kill my night owl tendancies.”

Jane playfully slapped Bing on the shoulder and said “Well, don’t overthink it. I’m a very busy person and will need to work you into my schedule.”

As soon as she heard Bing say “back rub”, Lizzie felt a tide of horror pass over her. She was so focused on winning the game that she had pushed the consequences of losing out of her mind. Darcy saw the look of horror on Lizzie’s pale face and realized that she might not be as keen to give him a back massage as he had thought. In fact, judging from the nauseated look on her face, she was violently opposed to fulfilling her commitment as the loser of the bet.

With Jane and Bing gone, the room was deathly quiet. Darcy looked at her, while she looked at the floor, taking deep breaths. He wasn’t sure what she was going to do so he just waited. After what seemed like several minutes but could only have been a few seconds, she put out her hand and said “congratulations on your win, Darcy.” He reflexively took her hand, and noted that she was trembling slightly.

Without releasing her hand, he gallantly said “Really, Lizzie. It’s okay if you want to renege on the bet.” Or at least, in _his_ mind, it was gallant. He would sacrifice the physical contact from her that he had won fair and square if she would please quit looking so deathly pale.

When she didn’t answer, he added “I won’t say anything to anyone if you won’t”.

For reasons that he couldn’t fathom, that seemed to pull her out of her near catatonic state because she flushed and said “You may not realize this, but I’m not the kind of person who would refuse to uphold her end of a wager that was made in good faith. No matter how distasteful I felt the bet was.”

He was thoroughly confused now. She and Jane were the ones who had proposed the stakes so why was she calling it “distasteful”? Whether or not he understood the finer points of the reasons behind her dismay, she was clearly miserable so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Double or nothing?”

“What?” she said, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had just lost a best 2 out of 3 pool match with Darcy and was now obligated to give him a 30 minute back massage.

“I said, would you like to change the wager to double or nothing?” he repeated patiently, as if speaking to a small child.

Lizzie did _not_ like the way he spoke to her, and she did not like _him_. In her panic-stricken search for a plausible excuse that would allow her to escape her fate, she had come up empty. There was no honorable way out of the bet.

Now Darcy was offering her a possible avenue of egress so she took it.

“You’re on. Name the time and place.”

“How about right now?”

“Another game of 8-ball? Right now?” She heard her voice kind of do a squeaky noise that sounded young and frightened so she tried again. “Alright” in a voice that was lower and more confident.

This game moved faster since Bing and Jane were not involved. Unfortunately for Lizzie, the pace didn’t help her game. Earlier, she had been able to focus on her shots. Now, her mind was screaming “back rub for Darcy if you don’t make this shot.”

She lost. Again. Fuuuucckk.

She flew through the denial stage of grief and was grappling full on with anger. Deep breath. Don’t make this any worse than it already is, she told herself. “Where and when would you like to receive an hour long back massage?” she said through gritted teeth without looking at him.

He didn’t immediately answer so she finally looked directly at him and raised her eyebrows, signally him to hurry up and answer the question.

He had a confused look on his face. _An hour_ was still reverberating in his head. It was then that he realized that he had not explained what he meant by ‘double or nothing’. He could now see that she thought she owed him an hour of massage. When he tendered the offer, he had meant that if she should she win, she would owe him nothing. But if she should lose, he would receive a 30 minute massage _from_ her and would give a 30 minute massage _to_ her. Total minutes of massage were doubled and equaled one hour.

Her misunderstanding of his offer was perhaps reasonable he conceded to himself. There was also an additional thought that he couldn’t repress no matter how hard he tried. The little voice in his head reminded him that his impulsive offer of his version of a double or nothing bet would allow him to touch her as well as be touched by her.

“While I can understand why you thought I meant the bet was for an hour long massage performed on me only or no massage at all” he explained carefully “I intended for the hour to be split evenly between us."

Lizzie thought that her anger must be impairing her ability to make sense of what he was saying. Or he plain ol’ wasn’t making sense. She went back to taking deep breaths until she felt she could ask for clarification without headbutting him.

She was stunned by his explanation. How the fuck was that ‘double or nothing’? She was so astonished that she couldn’t formulate a coherent reply. Her mind was reeling while trying to decide if giving him an hour long back massage was worse than giving a half hour massage to him and receiving a half hour massage from him. Her mind flashed back to slumber parties where they played “would you rather’, and your only options were two equally gross things such as would you rather live the rest of your life with Cheeto dust on your fingers or have a bell go off every time you were aroused.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of him rolling billiard balls over the table in no particular pattern. An hour was a long time to spend in direct physical contact with him. Whether she gave a massage to him or received a massage from him wouldn’t make that much difference in the end. Breaking up the task into two parts seemed like the smart way to go. The actual time and place could be decided tomorrow when her head was clearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte lends an ear in the next chapter.


	6. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie makes strides towards coming to terms with the consequences of losing the bet. Darcy remains clueless. The details of the back massage exchange are agreed upon.

Lizzie didn’t sleep well. She spent the night mentally beating herself up for agreeing to the bet, missing shots, staying at Netherfield, attending the Gibson wedding, ever knowing the Longoria boys, saying yes to best 2 out of 3, etc. How could she have ever let herself lose to _him_? Of all the people in the state of California? It was humbling that her pride in her pool hustle was so mortifyingly misplaced. She thought about talking to Jane about her regrets and misgivings, but then worried that it might seem like she was blaming Jane. Which she totally wasn’t. This was all on her and her stupidly overconfident self. Jane deserved a sexy times massage session with Bing without feeling guilty about Lizzie’s self-inflicted miserable fate.

It was now after 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning so she texted Charlotte: How do you feel about frogurt for breakfast?

Text from Charlotte to Lizzie: In theory or in practice?

Text from Lizzie to Charlotte: In meet you there in 30 minutes concrete plans?

Text from Charlotte to Lizzie: K

Text from Charlotte to Lizzie: Are you alright?

Text from Lizzie to Charlotte: Yes. Just mad at myself and the infuriating douchebag I lost a bet to.

Text from Charlotte to Lizzie: In that case, I’ll see you in 20.

*****

Charlotte and Lizzie placed their orders and took a seat on the patio under an umbrella. The morning air was already hinting that it would be a hot afternoon.

“Soooo. Let’s hear the details on this bet.”

Lizzie took a deep breath and then did a rapid fire summary of the bet, the game, the outcome.

Charlotte blinked while she processed all of this information and then slowiy said “That is one weird fucking prize to win, you know that right?”

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh a little and said “Oh, it gets weirder,” and launched into the double or nothing twist at the end.

The arrival of other customers to the patio area spared Charlotte from making any kind of sympathetic comment that would make any sense in any known world.

“Are you going to vlog about it?” she asked instead as they both continued eating.

“God, no” said Lizzie.

“Why not?”

“I can’t even explain it to myself or to you so there’s little hope that I could explain what happened to the viewers. Especially in the given time constraints.”

“You can’t just withhold this juicy tidbit. It’s called the Lizzie Bennet DIARIES. A diary includes events and thoughts that are important to the keeper of said diary.”

“It’s the diary of my life. I figure I can provide or withhold information as I see fit,” Lizzie said uncomfortably. “Besides, who said this little fiasco is important?”

Charlotte sighed. “If it kept you tossing and turning all night long, one would think that its importance is self-evident.”

“Thank you, my BFF, for making me face the flaws in my logic,” Lizzie said sardonically.

“You’re welcome.” “Now what’s your next move?”

“I don’t know, Charlotte. That’s why I’m here with you on a Sunday morning, eating my feelings. Are you saying that whining to my best friend is not a valid move after spectacularly misjudging the consequences of a bet?”

Charlotte laughed. “No, it’s a valid move, but you’ll have to make another move before the day is out. You can’t just let this ‘when and where thing’ hang over you.”“It’d be different if you weren’t staying in the same house with him, but since you are, you’re going to have follow through with this,” she added.

“God damn it. That’s what I thought too” she groaned. “I was hoping you could think of a way to get me out of this nightmare.”

“Nope. Can’t help you, ” shrugged Charlotte, finishing off the last bites of her frogurt.

They talked for a few more minutes, and Lizzie considered telling Charlotte about the events preceding the pool game. She refrained though. She didn’t really know what she thought of yesterday’s revelations that included ‘Darcy can be an amiable guy if it suits his purpose’, ‘Caroline is much nicer if Darcy pays attention to her’ and ‘Darcy is surprisingly good at word games despite being a silent bastard most of the time’ to name a few.

Lizzie felt a little better after talking. As she hugged Charlotte goodbye, Charlotte added “You could do worse, you know. Darcy has a hot body and don’t even try to deny it.”

Lizzie was going to deny it, but bit her tongue. Charlotte was right. Darcy had a smoking hot body that she did her best to ignore. She had seen quite a bit of it: hanging around the pool in a swimsuit, rinsing the chlorine off in the outdoor shower after a swim, wearing his cycling shorts after a bike ride, that one time in the hallway when he was wearing only light weight lounge pants. And if that were not enough, he could turn a girl's head by simply wearing his regular wardrobe which contained a ridiculous amount of clothes that were well-tailored and flattering to his physique. Sometimes, when she was sure that he wasn’t looking, she might sneak a peak, but good Lord, she was only human.

As Lizzie pulled into the “car park” at Netherfield, she realized that she had missed a text from Charlotte while en route:

Will he be wearing a shirt during this back massage? : P

“Damn it, Charlotte,” Lizzie cursed under her breath as she entered a side door that lead into the kitchen.

*****

Darcy had slept well. He felt good about himself. He had played a decent game of pool against a worthy opponent, and he had won. He had been a gracious winner, giving her the opportunity to bow out, and when she didn’t, he had offered her an alternative. Win-win negotiating, pure and simple.

He went for a morning bike ride with a sense of contentment that had been lacking since he came to Netherfield. As he climbed the canyon road leading to his favorite designated bike trail, he reflected on how well things had turned out last night. He acknowledged that she seemed put out by her loss initially, but that she had accepted it rather quickly was evidence that she really didn’t mind losing that much. Thinking about her vivacity during Outburst made him smile to himself. He couldn’t think of a single girl or woman of his acquaintance whose eyes lit up the way hers did. He concluded that she was exceptionally bright if her play during Outburst was any sort of measure of intellect. Her dinner conversation showed an interest in current affairs and a love of literature. She was beyond charming. With his perpetual self-satisfied smirk, a passing motorist might think that he was insane.

He didn’t care. Thanks to Wickham, he’d had enough misery in the past few months that he more than deserved to savor his infatuation with Lizzie Bennet. He just needed to be careful and insure that she didn’t know of his attraction to her.  A relationship with her would never work and was out of the question. He had considered having a torrid but superficial affair with her, but she didn't seem like the 'no strings attached' type, and he respected her too much to sincerely consider pursuing that course of action. Also, there was the matter that he was unsure how he would go about approaching her with a 'friends with benefits' offer since he had never experienced a relationship of that sort himself. He decided he wasn't that type either.

When he returned to Netherfield, he didn’t see the Bennet car in the car park. He had hoped that he would see her when he finished his ride. It was still early in the day. He went to the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of chilled, filtered water. He stood by the sink as he drank it.

*****

With the thought of a shirtless Darcy just inserted into her mind via Charlotte’s text, Lizzie pulled up short as she entered the kitchen. He had his back to her, and she could see what was undeniably one of the best looking asses that she had ever seen up close. And in shorts that emphasized its muscularity and tight shape. His cycling jersey was fitted too so it did not disguise his broad shoulders and narrow waist in the least. He rinsed the glass and leaned over to put it in the dishwasher, and she continued to look. Her mind was screaming “get out now!”, but she just stood there, taking in the masculine beauty that was William Fuckhead Darcy.

He looked up and saw here. “Good morning, Lizzie.” He was slightly flushed and sweaty from his ride, and his hair was ruffled. This was probably how he looked after...

She flushed and stammered “Good morning”.

He was facing her now. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She worried that her recent salacious thoughts would be telegraphed directly to him if she made eye contact with him. But staring at anything below his neck was worse, and staring at the floor was just stupid. She turned to go to her room saying “I was going to find Jane.” “I need to talk to her about….something.” Her bullshitting skills had deserted her.

“You’ll find Jane and Bing by the pool. I saw them on my way in,” he said.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said, reversing direction to cross the kitchen and go out to the pool.

She had made it across the kitchen, when she heard him say “If you want to discuss the terms of our bet, I’ll be in the Great Room after I shower and get cleaned up.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” God, was that the only response she could think of to any statement he made? She hurried on out to where Bing and Jane were doing their dopey smiles and googly eyes routine.

*****

“Good morning, Bing. Good morning, Jane. Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Lizzie queried.

They simultaneously said “Good morning” followed by “of course, not.” This made them smile. So much harmony in thought and word was delightful to them both.

“So what have you been up to this morning? I saw that the car was gone,” Jane asked.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t inconvenience you. I met Charlotte for breakfast,” Lizzie answered, leaving out the frogurt as breakfast detail.

“No, not at all,” said Jane. Long pause. “Charlotte’s good?”

“Yeah.”

There was another pause as Lizzie just stood there distractedly thinking about Darcy taking a shower right this minute. Thankfully, Jane interrupted that unwelcome intrusion into Lizzie's consciousness by asking “Was there anything else you wanted? You’re welcome to pull up a chair and join us, of course.”

“No. Just thought I’d say good morning,” she said. “I may swim later. After a yoga work out. Caroline has inspired me to practice.” Okay then, her thinking on the fly skills seemed to be returning.

“You can use the exercise studio above the detached garage,” Bing offered helpfully. “It was originally an art studio, but the previous owner converted it to an exercise room complete with mirrors and bars. There isn’t much exercise equipment though. Except for some free weights and mats that Darcy uses. Caroline has plans to get commercial grade equipment, but it seems a little excessive….” Bing’s voice trailed off as he realized the existence of an exercise studio, with or without commercial grade equipment, was excessive in the Bennets’ eyes.

“Lizzie would like that,” said Jane, trying to salvage the conversation from the haves and have nots path of doom it was currently on. “Wouldn’t you, Lizzie?”

“Yes. Of course, I would. That would be great. It’s really kind of you to offer, Bing.” Lizzie gave him a sincere smile of appreciation. He really was an incredibly nice guy.

“No problem. The door code is 4242. It’s not connected to the rest of the house’s security system,” he added.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said before she could stop herself. She berated herself for using the same stupid phrase again, and headed into the house. It was a little early in the day to hide under the covers and bemoan her lack of options. The yoga work out idea, complete with actual meditation instead of distressed rumination, was gaining traction as she wandered towards her room.

*****

The detached garage was only about 30 yards down a slight slope from the main house. As a garage, it was poorly located because the main driveway that lead to the attached 3 car garage, car park and carport was on the other side of the house. This explained why the detached garage wasn’t well used, she guessed. Caroline had once said that the detached garage had formerly been the stables, before it was converted to a 4 car garage with an art studio above it.

She used an outside staircase to get to the second floor. The door opened easily when she punched in the code. The light in the expansive room was nothing short of fabulous. She immediately understood why it had once been an art studio. The wood floors were clean, and the room smelled fresh. She hadn’t seriously engaged in a yoga work out in the past 3-4 months. This was long overdue. She rolled out her mat in front of the mirror, got into her seated meditation position and looked at herself in the mirror before closing her eyes.

Having the mirror was great for correcting pose position, but it was distracting too. She knew if she stared at her face too long, it quit making sense. The shapes just started to jumble as she tried to peer into her own mind. Looking at her own body could be a chore if she was in the wrong frame of mind which was much too often with Darcy in the vicinity. She had survived the “I wish I was more this or more that” phase of her teen and undergraduate school years. She was past that. She accepted herself and had a reasonably healthy body image. Sure, sometimes she wished she were taller and could wear clothes that demanded long legs, but overall, she had come to terms with her pale skin, red hair and petite frame. As Charlotte had said more than once, at least she had boobs.

When she found her circular breathing rhythm, her thoughts calmed. As her thoughts calmed, she became more confident and remembered why she loved yoga so much. Stretching and contracting her muscles, she methodically advanced her body through increasingly difficult poses. When she came to the Wheel, her thoughts strayed to memories of Darcy’s stricken visage so she abandoned that pose in favor of others.

After well over an hour, she concluded her session with more circular breathing and meditation. She left the exercise studio feeling refreshed and centered. Whatever WFD threw at her, she could handle.

“I got this,” she said out loud as she crossed the small lawn between the former stables and the main house.

*****

William Fitzwilliam Darcy had been in the Great Room all morning. He answered email, reviewed financial reports, skimmed analytics, and wondered where Lizzie was. He thought that they had tacitly agreed to meet in the Great Room after his shower so that they could discuss the particulars of settling the bet. Evidently, she hadn’t thought that.

No matter. He had plenty of work to do. It would just be better if she would present herself to the Great Room so that they could make arrangements to fulfill the terms of the bet. Afterwards, if she wanted to stay in the room with him and read, then that would be fine, too. He was really flexible on that point.

*****

When the house occupants met for an al fresco lunch prepared by the Lee’s chef, Caroline insisted on everyone describing how they spent their morning. Her morning had been the most trying so she went first. Caroline had met with her interior designer at 10 a.m. She had perused the contents of a designer’s warehouse consortium with which he was associated. They had met on a Sunday morning when the warehouse was closed to the public so that he could give her his undivided attention. She wasn’t too excited about anything she had seen aside from a few light fixtures and possibly some architectural salvage pieces. The designer had said that he had access to another warehouse that might interest her, and she was going to meet with him at 3 o’clock.

Bing and Jane were next in line to share their morning activities with the hostess. They shrugged, reddened, smiled at each other and said that they had hung around the pool, talked and worked the crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper together.

Darcy mentioned that he had gone on a bike ride to Copper Canyon via a combination of public roads and the designated bike trail. He had spent the remainder of the morning working in the Great Room. At this, he glanced at Lizzie to see if she would in any way acknowledge her failure to join him and discuss the fulfillment of the bet.

Lizzie felt him looking at her, but chose to ignore him. Instead, she raved about the lighting and space of the exercise studio. She was so enthusiastic describing her morning work out in the exercise studio that he decided to forgive her for declining his invitation to join him in the Great Room.

“I hadn’t had a thorough yoga work out in quite a while. I credit you, Caroline, for inspiring me.”

“Aww, thanks, Lizzie. Maybe we could do our yoga workouts together? I mean, if you’re still going to be here for a while.”

Caroline had noticed that Darcy had returned to his habit of staring at Lizzie like she was the most interesting thing on the planet. God, Lizzie really was blind. And Darcy was blind, too, for that matter. Not only could he not see that Lizzie hated him, he couldn’t see that she, Caroline Lee, was always looking out for his best interests.  He was lucky to have her and her brother as friends that would always have his back. 

Lizzie realized that this was the closest thing to a request for an exact departure date that she had had from Caroline. She had hinted that the Bennet house renovation was taking longer than a competent contractor should allow, but she had never directly asked how much longer they intended to stay. Before Lizzie or Jane could respond to Caroline’s indirect query, Bing jumped in saying “You know you’re welcome here as long as you need a place to stay.”

Jane flushed at Caroline’s innuendo that they had overstayed their welcome, and also at Bing’s heroic offer of continued safe harbor as long as they needed it. Lizzie felt that it was incumbent upon her to respond for herself and her sister since Jane was flustered. “Thank you, Bing. You have been…or are so incredibly generous to let us stay in your home. ”

Lizzie then began listing all the pluses that his generosity had made possible: “It’s shortened Jane’s commute to work, I have easy access to campus and meetings with my advisor, and…” She caught Darcy's appraising stare, her mind went blank, and she couldn't think of anything else positive to say. “And just made everything easier in general” she finished lamely.

Caroline was ready to pounce on Lizzie’s clumsy attempt at showing gratitude when Darcy intervened by addressing Lizzie with “I’m curious how long yoga workouts usually are? I would surmise that it differs between practitioners, but generally speaking, are they more than an hour?”

“Yeah. At least an hour or so. Sometimes two. Depending on how much meditation is done.”

“So you meditate, then?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I see,” he said.

Lizzie glanced at Jane to see if she could provide any help with deciphering where this line of questioning was going. Lizzie shifted her eyes left and right several time. Only Jane could see the “is this weird or what” signal. Jane stifled a giggle and gave a small shrug, indicating that she couldn’t figure out where he was going with his questions either.

It didn’t matter. It was 1:30, and the meal was over. Bing and Jane had plans to hit a farmers’ market about 30 minutes away and were ready to get going. The party broke up, and the three who remained at Netherfield returned to their respective places within the house.

*****

Darcy was not satisfied with how this day was progressing. He had waited to speak with Lizzie in the Great Room. She hadn’t put in an appearance, apparently because she was engaged in yoga in the exercise studio. He was frustrated with her non-compliance, but accepted that she was entitled to spend the morning as she saw fit. There had been no actual agreement to meet. He realized that now. He had made an effort to spare her Caroline’s cattiness, and he was pretty sure that she hadn’t realized that he had rescued her. Perhaps she wasn’t as smart as he thought she was.

He contemplated how best to arrange a meeting with her to discuss the bet. Surely, she had not forgotten that she had lost and was indebted to him. If they were friends, he would have her phone number and could text her with a witty message. They weren’t that kind of friends though, and he had no reason to have her phone number so he would just have to wait until he ran into her.

He heard Caroline leave for her appointment with the decorator. It occurred to him that he was alone in the house with Lizzie. Here was his window of opportunity. He knew which bedroom was hers. He had found excuses to be in the hallway outside her room often enough and had even managed to bump into her a few times. He could just walk over to her room right now and knock on her door…but that seemed rude and intrusive. Like he was demanding that she pay up or he would turn her over to collections. Dammit. He would have to wait until she was out of her room so that it appeared like their encounter was accidental.

*****

The kitchen was between the wing where his quarters were located and the wing where her bedroom was located. He decided to sit at the island and work on his laptop. If he was lucky, she would pass through the kitchen sooner rather than later. As it turned out, she came to the kitchen sooner.

He had been browsing through his competitors' websites and exchanging texts with Gigi for no more than 20 minutes when Lizzie came bouncing through the kitchen with ear buds in, listening to music on her iPhone. She hadn’t seen him sitting at the far end of the long, chevron shaped island so she was startled when he called out to her, loud enough to be heard over the music. Her immediate reaction to her own grossly exaggerated startle reflex was to laugh. She even snorted a little. He was charmed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you or see you. What did you say?” she asked as she removed the ear buds.

“I said that I was hoping that I’d run into you while the others are out.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Because…?”

His mouth turned up ever so slightly as he said “I believe we have unfinished business…”

“Oh, yeah, that,” she nodded in recognition of his allusion to their bet. “I’m fine with whenever. The sooner, the better as far as I’m concerned.”

After her work out and meditation, it was crystal clear to her that the best thing to do was to get it over with. She need not make the situation more painful by worrying for any longer than absolutely necessary. She was a worrier by nature. Meditation had helped her deal with it, but shortening the worry time frame was a logical way to manage the worry.

He didn’t know what he was expecting from her, but the “how about right now” response was not it. He would have preferred to plan for it more. Enjoy the anticipation, imagine the details. But he was hesitant to decline her suggestion. The opportunity to have the house to themselves might not present itself again for days. She and Jane would be leaving eventually. Now was the time for the exchange of back massages to take place if they were to do so without the bother of interruption, and in Caroline’s case, without the fear of having to explain why they were giving each other back massages in the first place.

“Very well. I’m free right now. Caroline won’t be back for another hour and a half at least, and Bing and Jane will be gone at least another two hours.” She nodded in agreement.

“Where would you like to receive your back massage?” he asked to be polite. He already had something in mind.

“Right here in the kitchen is fine with me. We can take turns sitting at the island.”

“I’m afraid that the bar stools are a little too high. I can easily manage your massage, but I doubt that you could effectively reach my shoulders.”

He had a point so she nodded her agreement.

This next suggestion was going to have to sound organic, like he had just thought of it, so he pretended to ponder the problem for a few more seconds before he said “You know there is a massage chair in the exercise studio, don’t you?”

She shook her head. How had she missed that?

“It’s one of a half dozen things under the sheets in the alcove at the far end.”

She nodded. “Okay, I guess a chair specifically designed for massage would work,” she admitted wryly. 

"Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll meet you in the exercise studio in say 15 minutes?”

“That will be fine.” Lizzie conducting routine business tone of voice was fully engaged.

“You might want to wear loose fitting clothes and remove any under garments in order to maximize the efficacy of the massage,” he said over his shoulder as he left the kitchen, heading to his bedroom.

Lizzie stood in the kitchen with her mouth agape, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Did he really just advise her that she should take off her bra? This guy was a real piece of work. Arrogant bastard dictating what she should wear to her back massage? So what if he had a personal masseur work on him twice a week in his office (Jane had shared that tidbit with her via Bing)? Fuck that noise. She would show up in a suit of armor if she could get her hands on one.


	7. Double or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30 minutes for her, 30 minutes for him.

Lizzie returned to her bedroom to stare blankly at her wardrobe. She finally chose yoga pants, a baggy t-shirt and a camisole. After her initial shock, she decided that maybe he did have a point. Plus, she really didn’t want him feeling all around the back of her bra straps. She put her hair in a messy bun and with that, she was done getting ready for her massage. Take that, motherfucker. She walked barefooted through the empty house to the door closest to the detached garage/exercise studio.

Her mind was unsettled to say the least. It was a short walk, but a million thoughts raced through her head in the time that it took to cross 30 yards of lawn, and she couldn’t make sense of any of them. As she climbed the staircase, she couldn’t help but feel like Ann Boleyn, plodding towards her execution. She stopped outside the door and took a few deep breaths. To herself, she said “I’m getting a massage from a snooty douchebag who doesn’t think I’m attractive enough to merit a second dance so the joke’s on you, pal. I hope your fingers hurt by the end of this because I’m going to enjoy your weird little double or nothing just to spite you.”  She went in with her shoulders back, and her head held high.

*****

As she walked to the far end of the room where he had wiped down the massage chair to remove any dust, she could see her reflection in the mirrors out of the corner of her eye. She looked casual and self-possessed. Good girl, Lizzie. Another deep breath. 

The overhead lights were off so that the room was lit only with natural light from the wide expanse of windows. The sunlight was filtered by the large pines that surrounded the building. He had lit an aroma therapy candle with a scent that he found soothing, but it did nothing to offset the atmosphere of barely contained excitement that permeated the room.

As she approached, Darcy was pleasantly surprised to see that she had taken his advice and worn loose clothing. Her messy bun was quite practical, and he approved of it, too. He gestured for her to sit in the chair and instructed her to lean her face, arms and knees against the designated rests. He adjusted the chair to fit her, insisting that she provide actual feedback as to her comfort after she initially said that it seemed fine to her. He started a playlist on his phone that was designed especially for his regular biweekly massages while at home in San Francisco. It wasn’t music per say, but it was a collection of nature sounds that had a musical quality to them. He particularly liked the loons at the end of the playlist.

If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that he was trying to seduce her. His voice was low and reassuring, the room smelled great, the lighting was soft, the air was crackling with an unnamed energy and his attention to her comfort seemed genuine. That thought was quickly dispelled when she processed his actual words which were clinical and formal as he asked her if there were any particularly troublesome areas.

She refrained from saying that the only area that she found particularly troublesome was whatever area he happened to be standing in. Instead, she singled out her upper back and between her shoulder blades. These were relatively safe body parts, and it was also true.

“I don’t have any actual massage therapy training, but I do have the benefit of having had several excellent masseurs and masseuses over the years,” he said in that deep voice that would be sexy if it were coming out of anybody’s larynx but his. He placed his warm hands on her back and began kneading her muscles in circular motions on either side of her spine, working his way up from her midback to her scalp. “Is there any specific technique that you like?”

“Uhhh. No.”

“I see. Well, I’ll just try to emulate the things that I find the most helpful, and you tell me if you want more or less of something?”

“Okay.”

He was really quite good. She had the unwelcome thought that, for being such a pompous prick, he was surprisingly solicitous of her comfort. That thought lead to her wondering if he would ask similar questions in bed. He was so organized that he probably had checklists and pre-determined signals for indicating which participant should do more of what and at what speed and intensity. This made her smile.

He sensed that she was enjoying herself and congratulated himself on providing a good experience. They both were relaxing as time went on. He massaged both her arms which she informed him were sore from the morning yoga. (Note to self: really need to work on upper body strength more.) He worked his way up and down her arms, up her neck to her scalp, down her shoulders and resumed working on her back. As he worked his way towards her buttocks, she began to tense up, concerned that squeezing and rubbing her ass were not part of the deal, and she shouldn’t allow it. She was about to say something, but then decided that it felt good, and he was keeping the same rhythm and using mostly the same techniques that he had used on her upper back so she let it ride.

At the conclusion of her 30 minutes, he asked if she was satisfied, as he rubbed his hands lightly over her entire back in a “the massage has ended” sort of way. She nodded with her face still in the face rest. He was only slightly disappointed that she hadn’t given him more in the way of praise.

“I suppose that you want me to move now so that you can have a turn?” she asked in a lovely, husky voice that unwittingly contained the praise that he had been seeking.

“Yes, I believe that was part of the bet, “ he said through a smile.

She stood up and swayed a little.

“Careful there." He reached out to steady her by the arms. “It happens to me sometimes,” he admitted as he bent down to look her in the eyes to assess her dizziness. “Blood pooling in the extremities away from the brain. Makes you light-headed.”

She nodded and lightly squeezed his forearms, signaling that she was stable, and he could let go now.

He continued to lightly grip her upper arms, and his eyes kept darting from her eyes to her mouth. He moistened his lips. Her stomach clenched and her breath hitched as she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he abruptly dropped his hands and took his place in the chair.

They both pretended like that frisson hadn't happened as she diligently adjusted the chair which was comically too small for him. When he confirmed that he was comfortable, she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and tentatively started using her thumbs the way she felt he had done.

As she worked, she began to gain confidence. Her strokes became firmer and more aggressive. As she leaned into squeezing and kneading, he confirmed that he liked a very deep massage. 

 “Oh, I forgot to ask you if you had any particular problem areas.” “That is the procedure, right?”

“Yes,” he said as his thoughts strayed to the area of his body that he wished could somehow be included in a back massage. 

“And?”

“My low back is tight after a long bike ride like the one I took this morning.” Good save, he thought. It had the additional benefit of being true.

She had already forgotten about his ride. This morning seemed like it had occurred several days ago. She was falling into the Netherfield vortex of extreme material comforts coupled with extreme interpersonal weirdness and was losing track of time.

As her hands worked over his lumbosacral area, he acknowledged that this area and a little lower were the “problem areas”. She used a combination of her fingers, thumbs and fists to massage his low back, hips and buttocks. He made vague sounds of approval. She marveled that she could be effective and that he could communicate his appreciation. Which was more astounding was difficult to say.

At some point, she became self-conscious that she was actually touching and squeezing the very object that she had been ogling earlier in the day. She was determined to be as clinical and formal as he had been during her massage, but with that embarrassing recollection, she felt herself flush. To escape the overpowering heated sensation, she decided to work her way north again. 

Yes, he had shoulders to die for, and yes, she didn’t mind working on them and his sculpted arms in the same way that he had done hers. Nope, she was not disappointed that he was wearing a plain gray t-shirt. Her worry that he would want her to use warm massage oils on his shirtless torso was all for naught. She would report the presence of the gray t-shirt to Charlotte. She probably wouldn't mention whether she was disappointed or not by its presence. Mainly because she wasn't sure if she wanted him shirtless or not, but also because Charlotte would act like admiration of manly assets meant something more than it did.

As she worked her way down his arms, he indicated that he liked his hands included so she diligently squeezed and stroked them too. Holding, and essentially caressing, his one big hand between her two small hands was strangely intimate. Even more intimate than fondling his ass and calling it a massage. He seemed to recognize the intimacy too because he quit breathing until she started working her way back up his forearm. The same feeling of intimacy and awkwardness charged the air as she applied the same techniques to his other hand, but she soldiered on, pushing wayward thoughts out of her mind and concentrating on replicating the techniques that he had used on her.

It didn’t last nearly long enough. Darcy wished that he had another hour at least. As much as he had enjoyed receiving a massage from her, he would definitely like to spend more time working on her ass, hips and hands right now. He had become aroused when she was working on him despite a valiant effort to not do so, and he tried to think of a reason that would plausibly allow him to touch her again. His mind drew a blank. He hoped that his arousal wouldn’t be terribly noticeable in his slightly loose track pants.

He glanced down as he removed his face from the face rest of the massage chair. It was more problematic than he had anticipated. She was looking at his face searchingly so maybe she wouldn’t notice that a very large tent had been pitched in his pants. He reached down and pulled one knee and then the other up to his chest as if he were stretching his hamstrings. He continued to alternate flexing his hips towards his chest.

“Was that okay?”

“Was what okay?”

“The massage. Is my debt paid up to your satisfaction?” she asked.

He was so preoccupied with disguising his erection with bogus stretching exercises that he missed the hopefulness in her voice and gruffly answered “Yes. It was satisfactory. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” “Douchebag” she added mentally. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at dinner. I need to get going. Uh, bye.”

She left the room without looking back. If she had looked back, she would have seen the unmistakable expression of loss on Darcy’s face. An opportunity had passed him by, and he knew it, but he accepted his disappointment as inevitable. Having any sort of intimate relationship with an unsuitable woman, especially one that he found intellectually stimulating and physically captivating, was, at best, inadvisable, and at worst, disastrous.

The real and painful emotions generated by the conflict of his current desires with his established notions of an acceptable girlfriend/lover were almost more than he could bear. Almost. He was nothing if not self-disciplined and self-sacrificing. He resolved to be kinder to himself in future:  he would consciously eschew being alone with her, actively avoid engaging her in conversation and brutally suppress the sense of longing that was plaguing him. He would suffer through this enchantment from a safe distance until it waned.

*****

When Lizzie got back to her room, she phoned Charlotte. “The deed is done. My bet is paid up. I need a shot of something strong.”

“That bad, huh? So sorry,” Charlotte said. There was a long pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really, but maybe? I think I’m still processing it. I don’t know what to say about it.”

Another long pause.

“Was it horribly awkward? Absurdly embarrassing? Physically painful?” Charlotte asked helpfully.

“Yes, yes and…. no.”

“I’m going to need more details than that.”

“God, I know. I don’t mean to be evasive…It’s just…” Lizzie whined “I don’t know. Confusing?”

“If you’re asking if I’m confused, the answer is yes. But I don’t think that it’s my conversation clarity that we’re discussing.” “What are you confused about?”

“Well, let’s start with the whole atmosphere which is all Namaste because we’re in this exercise studio above the detached garage behind Netherfield. Let me just say that the natural light in the space is surreal. It's freakishly relaxing, but also charged with the energy of anticipation. When I get there, he's already lit aroma therapy candles and turned off the overhead lights.”

“That sounds seductive.”

“I know, right? So the mood is sort of, I don’t know, for lack of a better word, sexy?  But at the same time, it's all business-like.” Charlotte nodded unseen on the other end of the phone call as Lizzie went on to describe the massage chair adjustments, the timbre of his voice, the way he was dressed, the way she was dressed, the details of their conversation, the nature soundtrack, the actual body parts that were touched and then finally the abrupt conclusion and what felt like a dismissal. She pretty much let it all spill out, including her thoughts on the exceptional fineness of his ass and shoulders, and the fact that his hair was softer than she expected.

The only information that she withheld was her mistaken impression that he was going to kiss her, and the fact that she could see him in the mirror and was aware that he had a rather magnificent boner when she finished giving him his massage. She had studiously avoided looking down after the massage was over and was somewhat amused by the stretching ruse, but thought it was poor form to call him out about something over which he had no control. For some reason, these details seemed more private than the rest of the interaction so she kept them to herself. He hadn’t said or done anything inappropriate. She knew rather than felt that she was grateful for that. If she analyzed how she felt, she felt slightly insulted that, while her touch could elicit such a strong reaction, her person was so undesirable to him that he ignored his arousal and ended their session as quickly as possible rather than make a move on her.

Charlotte suspected that there was a little more to the abrupt ending, but after she confirmed that he hadn’t touched anywhere that he shouldn’t and hadn’t said anything that he shouldn’t, she let it go. Instead, she concentrated on the positives. “So he has a nice touch?”

“Yeaahh? What’s your point?”

“No point. Just asking. He’s so quiet and remote. I just think it’s interesting.”

“In what way?”

“’The quiet ones can be the most sensuous ones’ way”

“Sensuous? Who said anything about _him_ being sensuous? The _setting_ was kind of sexy was what I said. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I stand corrected.  His touch was strictly business. No sexy, carnal pleasure derived from it."

“None whatsoever.” Long pause. “Okay, maybe a little. Happy?”

“I’m not the one who needs to be happy about living under the same roof as a man with a sensuous touch and a killer body.”

“He has purdy hands, too, but it doesn't make him any less of a dick," Lizzie said sarcastically. She exhaled forcefully. "This is so not helping.”

“We’ve reviewed every gory detail, and I'm out of ideas on how to be helpful. There's only so much frogurt I'm willing to splurge on in a single weekend." "Please tell me that you are slightly less confused?"

“Yeah. Slightly less confused. Thanks for listening.” Groaning. “I _really, really_ need to get home. There is too much nebulousness at Netherfield. I can’t take it any more.”

“You say that every week. I’m pretty sure that you’ll survive. How’s Jane doing?”

With that, Lizzie was distracted from her own trials and tribulations and related to Charlotte that Jane and Bing were probably still at the farmers' market. She also speculated that, based on her short observations made poolside that morning, Jing had had a much happier ending to the debt settlement. This made them both cackle with glee. At least someone was getting some ‘resolution’.

They ended the call with Charlotte encouraging Lizzie to talk about whatever she was comfortable with, but in the name of all that was holy, roll camera and send her some footage that she could begin editing into something resembling a vlog.

*****

Jane asked Bing to stop by the Bennet house on the way home from the farmers' market to check on any progress. Miracle of all miracles, the renovation was complete. Lizzie would be elated and relieved. 

I'm relieved, too, thought Jane, but she couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow.  Her stay at Netherfield had been magical, and she was sad to see it end. The prospect of seeing her sister so happy made it easier to hurry back to Netherfield to tell Lizzie the "good" news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to honor my patron saint, Jane Austen, Lizzie's stay at Netherfield HAS to end with her disliking him and being unaware that he's fallen for her. Her wound from the Gibson wedding indignity HAS to still be festering so that she's more vulnerable to Wickham's charms than she would normally have been. When she leaves Netherfield, Darcy HAS to be minimizing and denying his feelings for her and continuing his self-absorption to the point where he has no idea she dislikes him. I couldn't allow them to have a deeper understanding or mending of fences although this writer acknowledges that that would have more satisfying for her little story. It needed to fit the larger story because staying true to P&P while modernizing it is what sucked a Janeite like me into the LBD fandom in the first place. I love watching LBD and can enjoy the AU-est of fanfic, but I can never escape comparing the characters and the storylines with the original masterpiece. I hope my self-imposed mandate to stick with the overall storyline and just flesh out some unseen details is satisfying, even if you feel like you are left hanging. Chapter 8 is a retrospective so maybe that will help.


	8. Revisiting Netherfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie and Darcy take a stroll down memory lane. The lane includes a stop in the exercise studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing my note on chapter 7, I tweaked chapter 8 to amp up the sexy and get a little more pay off for the readers who stuck it out through some pretty grim and frustrating times. Then it got way too explicit so I revised it again. Just wanted you to know that I made an effort to strike some sort of balance.

Before Bing sold Netherfield the next fall, they had a chance to walk through the house one last time. They entertained each other by pointing out places in the house where they remembered the other one sitting, standing, reading, etc. and what they were thinking. Their tour included, but was not limited to: the the hallway directly off the entryway, the Great Room, the billiards room, her bedroom (which he had never been in until after she left), his quarters (which she had never been in period), the area around the pool and finally the kitchen.

His recollections of her during her Netherfield stay were so outlandishly complimentary,  that they made her blush, both because she was pleased and also because she was mortified at her own lack of perspicacity. She edited her recitation of her memories so that she downplayed many of her now embarrassingly pejorative thoughts and instead emphasized all of the times that she thought that he looked particularly handsome or appealing. 

"You don't even want to know what I was thinking when I saw you bending over just outside of the entryway, trying to take your shoes off," he said closing the gap between them as they stood in the kitchen, still chuckling about their various awkward run-ins.

"Oh, reaalllly?" she said with a coy smile.

"Yes, reaalllly," he said, pulling her into his arms and crossing them loosely behind her low back.

"I'm guessing that it was similar to what I was thinking when I saw you in the hallway outside my bedroom wearing nothing but a scowl and some low riding $5000 lounge pants," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

He lifted her on to the kitchen countertop, and stood between her legs as they spent the next few minutes kissing, groping and grinding. She whispered, "Before all of our pent up Netherfield passion is released here in the kitchen, I think we should go see if 4242 still opens the exercise studio door."

He nodded, and she slid down his body as she slipped off the countertop onto the floor. She took his hand and lead him outside, across the lawn and up the stairs. The code worked, and the door opened to reveal the same dreamlike lighting that they both remembered so well. They smiled at each other, easily as dopey and googly eyed as any couple ever had, and stepped inside.

The studio had recently been cleaned along with the rest of the house, and smelled fresh. The outline of a masseuse's massage chair could be seen under the sheet in the far alcove. Darcy went to retrieve the chair so that it was in front of the mirrors and exercise mats.

"What are you doing?" she said thru her dopiest smile.

"Just hoping to re-write an ending that I didn't like."

"And what ending was that?"

He sighed while taking her hand. "I really thought you were smarter than that. You disappoint me exceedingly. Must I explain how much I wanted to have my way with you?" He pulled her over to a small platform designed for step aerobics. Her mouth still only reached his Adam's apple so he widened his stance in front of her to make himself closer to her height.

"Yes, I guess you must, " she breathed against his neck as they embraced.

"Well, as I recall, you were done giving me my massage, and I was desperate to prolong our..." he stopped applying soft kisses to her face between each word because he couldn't think of a word that captured the agony and bliss of that hour.

Playfully she began throwing out suggestions as she kissed his neck and collar bone between words. "Tryst? No, we weren't exactly lovers at that point," she said, kissing the sensitive place below his left ear. " Rendezvous? " said while applying slow kisses across his jawline. "No, that's a little too romantic for what went down that day," kissing the sensitive place below and behind his right ear. "How about appointment?" she breathed into his right ear, as if it were an impossibly sexy word and then gently bit his earlobe before leaning back to look up at him.

He nodded agreeably. "I _wished_ that it were an assignation, but it _was_ more of an appointment." "I very much wanted to..." again words failed him as she untucked his shirt, pressed herself up against him, and slid her hands down his back to cup his ass. He had completely lost his train of thought while he watched her mild struggle to unfasten his pants. 

She grinned up at him after successfully freeing him from his pants and boxers and reminded him "You wanted to...." When he didn't answer, she nibbled on his lower lip while she languidly stroked him and slowly supplied a few suggestions. "Fondle my ass some more but call it a massage?" "Forget the massage and slip your hands under my shirt?" " Inside my pants?" He nodded enthusiastically to each of her suggestions, never breaking eye contact.

"Did I miss anything?" she said as she ran her thumb over the head of his penis, slightly lubricated with pre-cum. . By now his hands were firmly gripping the aforementioned fondle-worthy ass, under her skirt and inside the waistband of her panties.

"You have no idea how much you've missed," he said as he removed his hands long enough to slip her shirt over her head. "My imagination was working overtime." He stripped her of her panties but not her skirt and returned his hands to her bottom to lift her so that her legs could wrap around his waist.

"And to think that I thought that you didn't find me boneable ..."

He set her down on the chair backwards, facing away from the headrest and knelt between her legs and fulfilled one of his most detailed Netherfield-induced fantasies as he gave her the pleasure that he was now very proficient at providing.  She leaned back and let him.

The oddly angled chair limited their experimental positions to just one position that was satisfactory-- his sitting backwards on the seat and her astride him. The chair was low enough that her feet could touch on either side so that was a plus. More leverage.  Eventually they had abandoned the chair in favor of the mats.  

They were laying on the askew mats in the aftermath when he asked "How did you remember the security code to the door?"

"After we just made the earth move, the clouds part and the angels sing, _that's_ what you want to talk about?" she said through a tearful smile.  She wasn't sad at all, just shedding a few tears after the release of so much sexual tension which had been supercharged after stirring up memories of Netherfield nebulousness.

"I'm so sorry," he said with concern and pulled her closer.

"It's okay. I'm not crying. I'm just really happy and really..." she reassured him by hugging him close.  She had done this a few times before so it wasn't a totally new phenomenon for them. A great orgasm(s) paired with an extraordinary feeling of well-being and closeness to this human being that she loved so much that it almost hurt would bring her to tears. Afterwards, not during. The first time that it had happened to her, he was distraught. Now he knew to just hold her tightly until it passed.  She explained the overwhelming feeling that could only escape through tears as best as she could. He was still uneasy with tears, no matter what the reason for them. She agreed to call it 'post-coital lacrimation' if putting a name to it would make him feel better. It didn't really, but he let her think that it did.

"When Bing told me the security code for the first time, I remember thinking that on the other side of a door with that code, there should be twice the number of answers."

He was still confused, partly by her tear streaked face in contrast to her playful tone of voice and partly by what she had said.

"The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything is 42." "You know, it's that quote from 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy'?" she prodded.

"I've never read it, but I'm putting it on the top of my list as of right now." He squeezed her closer to his chest and brushed wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

"It's not really a top of the list kind of book, but it's a good quote."

"Whatever you say."

"You're so compliant and agreeable after you've gotten laid. If only I'd known then what I know now..."

*****

In the years to come, Lizzie and Darcy  looked back on their time at Netherfield with mixed feelings.  It had never been joyous and was rarely pleasant. Darcy allowed that her melodramatic spin on the magnitude of the awkwardness and confusion of those times wasn’t that much of an exaggeration. They had not exactly enjoyed their heated debates, the tension of their double or nothing game, or the physical and mental chaos that they endured during their short time together in the exercise studio on what would be her last afternoon at Netherfield. BUT the heightened sense of aliveness and the exquisitely acute awareness of the other's mind and body that accompanied those events had been undeniably exhilarating.  When it wasn't completely frustrating.

*****

Lizzie and Darcy conceded that Caroline was spot on when she toasted them at their wedding. Caroline was eloquent and insightful when she confided to the guests that the bride and groom's  “mutual blindness” during the first months of their acquaintance was both disquieting and humorous to behold. She explained that she had had a front row seat to the passionate verbal exchanges, lusty gazes and bungled efforts at flirting. She further observed that their initially rocky courtship had lead to a deeper understanding of themselves and propelled them into a relationship that brought out the best in both of them. After her toast, it was whispered among the guests that, although it was difficult to determine her sincerity, Caroline could add polished and proficient public speaker to her impressive list of accomplishments.


End file.
